Despite Everything
by Dorothy Ann
Summary: After the events at Beruna, Kind Edmund tries to keep his continued love of Turkish Delight a secret, but he's never been very good at hiding things from Peter. One-shot, fluff, Peter/Edmund slash, don't like don't read.


Despite everything, Edmund still loved Turkish Delight.

The first time it was offered to him after his betrayal, days since the battle at Beruna had been won, he almost didn't bother with it, certain that it would taste like ash in his mouth, or worse, remind him of her, cold cells and stone statues. It surprised him when it didn't. The powdered sugar still melted on his tongue the same way it always had, giving way to the sweet and subtle taste of roses and lemon, soft jelly sticking to his teeth and coating the roof of his mouth. He moaned in delight with his first bite, standing next to the banquet table during the coronation celebrations. Edmund caught Tumnus out of the corner of his vision, watching him, newly crowned King Edmund the Just still enjoying his sweeties perhaps a little too much. Tumnus shook his head in disappointment, reminding Edmund of the fox in the forest moments before he had been turned to stone. He quickly walked away from the plate of treats, cheeks burning with shame.

He only ate them in private after that. At night, after most of Cair Paravel had gone to sleep, he found himself sneaking into the kitchens to steal a handful from the jars of sweets that were freshly prepared and kept on hand. The knowledge that the citizens of Narnia would disapprove if they knew that their Just king was stealing Turkish Delight, the very thing he had traded his family for, gave him a small thrill of danger when he crept the quiet hallways back to him room, being very careful to not be seen by any of the guards.

Peter, Edmund decided, was not like Turkish Delight at all. While Edmund's opinion of Turkish Delight remained unchanged by the events of Narnia, the way he thought of Peter had been altered dramatically. In the place where he had come from, Finchley, Edmund remembered the name with some difficulty, Peter had been a nuisance. Always nagging at him, telling him what to do, and bruising him with wicket balls on purpose. Peter was perfect, something he could never live up to, and Edmund had hated him for it.

Here in Narnia, Peter was still perfect, but Edmund found he no longer hated Peter at all. The nagging had been replaced by a mutual respect. Edmund was Peter's right hand, giving him diplomatic advice. The High King was an enigmatic speaker, exuding contagious self-confidence and unwarranted optimism. His people trusted him and would willingly follow him into any battle. But it was Edmund who was able to step back and think any situation through with a clear head and an unbiased opinion. Peter trusted Edmund to always make the right decision. Peter still gave him bruises on purpose, but this time on an even playing ground when they trained together with their swords in the early morning. Sometimes, when the rising sun caught on both the silver of Peter's blade as well as the gold of his hair at the exact same moment, Edmund would be distracted just long enough for Peter to get in a good hit to his face with the hilt of his sword, leaving him with a purple and green reminder that lasted for days. Years passed, and Edmund continued to push down that funny feeling that Peter sometimes gave him, too afraid of what he would find if he actually stopped and took the time to examine it.

The years of never being caught during his nighttime ritual of stealing from the kitchens had made Edmund over-confident. The seventeen year-old was no longer as careful or quiet as he used to be when walking back to his room, which was why it shouldn't have been such a surprise when he turned the corner of a corridor one night, only to directly collide with another body.

"Ow," Edmund grunted, stumbling back. He looked up, preparing an excuse to tell one of the guards, or perhaps a worker who lived in the castle, but the words died in his mouth when he came face to face with his brother Peter instead. Quickly moving his hands behind his back, Edmund felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Ed," Peter whispered, squinting at him in the dark. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was…" Edmund stalled for a moment. Peter had always been able to tell when he was lying. "I just went to get something to eat." Edmund decided to be vague rather than lie.

"That's where I was heading as well," Peter stated.

Edmund felt frantic, like he needed to get away from Peter as quickly as possible before he discovered the treats he was carrying, the Turkish Delight that he could feel melting against his too-sweaty palms. Edmund's eyes darted around the corridor, no one but him and Peter anywhere in sight. Peter stood his ground, staring at him like he was waiting for him to do something, only he had no idea what that was. His senses felt heightened in the dark, silent hall, and Peter was standing so close that he could almost feel the heat coming off of the other boy's body. He could smell the citrus of the Turkish Delight melting in his hands and he worried for a moment that Peter could too.

"Well, goodnight then," Edmund said in a rush, trying to quickly side-step the High King.

"Wait," Peter grabbed the arm of his shirt before he could pass, and now he was definitely standing too close. "You're acting funny. Do you feel alright, Ed?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Peter," he told him, though he wouldn't actually feel fine until he was safely in his room with his stolen cargo.

"You look flushed," Peter noted, examining Edmund closely, keeping a tight grip on the sleeve of his shirt. "And you're sweating. Are you sure you're not ill?"

"I said I'm fine Peter, now get off." Edmund tried to shrug out of Peter's grip, but without the use of his hands it was a futile effort.

Peter's focus narrowed as he seemed to realize that Edmund was trying to fight him off while keeping his hands behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Edmund said too quickly, too defensively.

Peter laughed, and playfully pulled at both of Edmund's arms, tousling him.

"Stop it," Edmund scowled, panicking at what Peter's reaction might be if he saw what he was holding.

"Just show me," Peter said, still grinning at Edmund's agitation. "C'mon Ed!"

Peter pulled harder at his arms, trying to bring them around to his front, and that's when Edmund decided that if he couldn't use his hands, he may as well use his feet. He kicked his left foot out at Peter's shin, while trying to nudge him away with his hip at the same time. But the High King was good at anticipating his opponent's moves and he hooked his calf around Edmund's knee, trying to trap him further. It was Edmund who lost his balance first, too distracted with the thought of getting away as quickly as possible to concentrate on staying upright. He fell backwards, flinging his arms out to his sides to stop himself from smacking his head on the stone floor, and pulling Peter down on top of him.

The wind was knocked from Edmund in a rush, and it wasn't until he was gasping in his first lungful of air that he realized his hands were now empty. Peter was laughing on top of him and Edmund didn't really think it was funny at all.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking down at him, still smiling.

Edmund turned away, unable to answer, instead gazing sideways at the sweets that were now scattered around them on the ground, powdered sugar like fallen snow. Always winter, never Christmas, he thought.

"Oh," Peter whispered, no longer laughing. Edmund glanced up to see that Peter had finally noticed what it was he had been hiding all this time and he flushed all over again. Edmund waited, expecting Peter to stand up, to start yelling at him about betrayal and family, but Peter didn't move.

"Can I go now?" Edmund asked, sounding miserable. He suddenly very much felt 12 years-old again and like he might cry at any moment, which wouldn't be very kingly at all.

"Is this…" Peter began to say something, but stopped. He looked at Edmund carefully, their faces mere inches apart, the older boy holding himself up on his elbows. "Are you embarrassed?"

Edmund rolled his eyes.

"I didn't think you liked Turkish Delight anymore. I never see you eating it," Peter told him.

"Well I can't exactly go around eating it in front of everyone, can I?" he snapped. "What would people think?"

"I think you shouldn't care what they think," Peter said carefully. "That was years ago, Edmund. You can't keep punishing yourself for it. Besides," he added, "You're a good king and that's all that should matter."

Edmund swallowed thickly. Peter's words had a calming effect on him and he no longer felt ashamed. Instead he was once again aware of that strange feeling that came over him sometimes when he was with Peter, making him flush for entirely different reasons. He wanted Peter to get off of him, but at the same time, he didn't want Peter to go anywhere.

The High King was smiling again, a glint of mischief apparent in his bright blue eyes. "No sense in these going to waste," he said, picking up a sweet from the floor and popping it in his mouth.

"Peter, those are dirty," Edmund protested half-heartedly, too lost in Peter's eyes to really care.

Peter's smile softened before he closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth softly against Edmund's. And as the Just King parted his lips to allow entry to the High King's tongue, he noted that Peter tasted very much like Turkish Delight.


End file.
